Stop-N-Sniff

Lolly and I are off today, so we had a nice leisurely walk of it this morning. It is fairly warm outside, the sun out but not overdoing it; a pleasing, soft February day. Spring starts making promises early around here, and this is one of those days it's hinting around, flirting. I spent last night fraught with dreams, so quiet has been the order of the morning so far.

Sid particularly loves wild onions. Today we had a browse, and she investigated all the dark green patches shooting up out of the low, mossy turf. I listened to the quiet sound of our footfalls, and she softly nuzzled up in all the rubbery green shoots of onions.

She likes a Stop-N-Sniff, does my girl. Not walking in any particular direction, given free leash to lead me a little, and all the time in the world to investigate the breaks in the evergreens, the shadowy damp underneath, the stories told by dogs gone by. More often than not we're on a mission; in the mornings, she doesn't get to do more than say hi to her friends and get her business done. In the evenings, she usually only gets to take her preferred detours on the second half of our walks. So a day off, and a good, short-but-SLOW stop-n-sniff is luxury for her. Hey, it's her thirteenth birthday today. She gets the sweet treatment she *always* deserves, in good helpings.

She also got some scraps of turkey for breakfast. Didn't mind a bit if it was still a little kinda-frozen. It's turkey! She's a dog! Lay it on me, says she. And so I did.

She's just thumped down next to me in the dim outline of her sunbeam. Her eyes are looking up at me. Beautiful, big old glossy things, those eyeballs. Almond shaped, clear, bright, and trusting. Her ears are up. If I am living well enough that my dog has her ears up, it is a good day.

And slowly, she begins to kind of sniff at, in preparation to relax upon, her elegant forepaws. The sun is gleam-shous on her. She uncertainly, then finally, relaxes. And all is well, for now, with the world.